Blood Demons
by Dukas
Summary: A curse reveals their deepest feelings...and also threatens to destroy them. Fluff/Angst/Thorki


"The earthling. Is she…do you miss her?"

"You speak of Jane?"

"If that is her name, yes. Do you…think of her?"

"Think of her? Yes. I suppose I do. It would be strange not to wonder about old acquaintances on occasion. Why do you ask?"

"…Idle thoughts."

Silence ensued. Neither knew how to continue. With a nearly inaudible sigh, Loki turned and walked away.

"Wait."

Loki stopped, but he did not turn around, waiting wordlessly for whatever would follow, deeply afraid of confrontation. Because there were secrets - so _many_ secrets - that he knew of and that Thor did not…secrets that could destroy everything they had built together.

"Loki. Loki, I…" Thor seemed hesitant.

"If perhaps these thoughts of yours are better hidden," said Loki tersely, "I suggest that you keep them so. It is not becoming of a future king to muse so long ab—"

"I want to speak with you," interrupted Thor.

"You _are_ speaking with me."

"I am speaking _to_ you, Loki. Whenever we talk now it is your back I see, not your face or your eyes that used to give me such….such sincere attention. Do you not feel a distance growing between us? A distance that you have forced-"

"It is all in your mind." With that, he walked away briskly, his quick steps warning Thor that conversation was no longer an option. He knew, however, that Thor was not one to observe social cues, and was not surprised to hear him taking a few steps to follow Loki. In response, Loki walked faster.

"Loki, why are you avoiding me?"

He walked faster still, cutting sharp corners and moving into a run as fear and desperation shot through his blood. But the heavy steps behind him did not grow softer, and Loki ran towards his room in a final sprint as he felt Thor's presence closing up the space between them.

"Loki! Please, stop!"

Fingers brushed upon Loki's shoulder, and the touch sent a jolt of pain through Loki's back, but he escaped into his room just before they reached him a second time. They both slammed onto the gilded doors at once, Thor on it, desperate to enter, and Loki against it, desperate to escape. The floor shook, as did they.

Thor rammed his palms against the doors. "Loki! Loki, please! I beg of you! Why do you avoid me so? What have I done, Loki? Answer me!"

Nothing but lonely echoes replied.

"_Loki_! Have I wronged you?" He thundered upon the door with the vain hope that he could force it open; but the palace of gods and goddesses stood until Ragnorak. "Speak to me, please! _Why do you avoid me?"_

Seeing no hope, and having emptied his lungs of air and energy, Thor slammed one final fist into the doors, angry at himself for what had become of them. They had been good friends, and through the years Thor had secretly come to love and desire the pale, effeminate young god, and cared for the latter very, very much. It pained him to see the sudden, inexplicable change in their relationship. With a heavy heart, Thor walked away, thinking it better to let Loki have his way.

Within his room, Loki had slid against the doors onto the floor in a mess of silent tears and broken feelings. He had felt every slam of Thor's fist as if they were against his own ribs, and yet there was nothing he could do. Loki did not understand why he felt so, so terribly afraid at the prospect of Thor ever knowing, and why he _cared_ so much about what Thor might think, but he tried to convince himself that it was simply due to his mind understanding that secrets, being secrets, were not meant to be told, even to good friends. Thor and Loki were friends – at least, on Loki's side, he tolerated the daft prince; it was only Thor who called them "friends" – and all had been quite well…

…Until Loki discovered he was cursed.

* * *

"Father. You knew."

Loki stood before Odin the King, who sat gravely and silently upon the ornate, dark golden throne. Through his one powerful eye he observed his second son.

"Why did you not breathe a word to me?" Loki asked, very quietly.

A long, heavy pause weighed in the air before the All-Father answered, as was his habit. "We suspected, your mother and I, but we did not know," he finally replied. "Even now, we do not know of its extent, nor of its severity."

"You are _king_, Father. The god of gods. If such knowledge is not in your possession then it could not exist."

"A king does not know everything."

"But you suspected. Why did you not _tell _me." It was difficult to keep the frustration out of his voice, and to keep it low, but nevertheless a slight tremble of pitch escaped his throat.

A murmur of an echo emanated from the smooth marble walls of the throne room. A conversation between two members of the royal Asgardian family mandated absolute privacy, and the guards that usually stood between the many pillars and beside the throne had vanished upon the presence of Loki, leaving the normally stern and strong hall a place of lonely, ghostly emptiness.

"We suspected…" began Odin gravelly. "But we knew that sorcery – dark sorcery of a most ancient kind – was involved. Such magic is not to be spoken about lightly. We believe even the Jotunns may not know of it, save the King and his closest of kin."

Loki waited for Odin to continue, alert for details that he had yet to discover about his condition.

"Do you know its name?" Odin asked.

"I can only wonder."

Odin nodded. "And so I. But your mother may know more about this, for she has far more knowledge about such things than I. We do not discuss this often because of the sensitive nature of your…curse, and it is one I strongly advise you to be aware of. Words have power, as you know."

"I do."

"You have, recently, been avoiding Asgardians. Although I am against such precautions, I see no other way about it. Do you now realize," added Odin suddenly, "why you and Thor receive different treatments from us? Please do understand that it was against our will." His deep, noble voice had turned very soft and tender. "You are my son, equal in all regards to Thor."

Parental kindness found little space in Loki's memories of Odin, and in this brief moment of fatherly affection, Loki felt a coat of warmth embrace his aching heart, alleviating the constant throb for a few moments. Unable to speak, moved as he was, he nodded in understanding.

A pause lingered before Odin spoke again. "Do you wish to tell me something else? Your…condition…has not worsened, has it?"

"O-oh, no, not by very much, at least," answered Loki, dazed at the sudden change of topic. "Although I can sometimes see them now…"

Odin looked grave. "I shall ask Frigga to renew her spell. It softens your symptoms immensely, but time seems to wear it out, and I fear there will come a day when Asgard can no longer be your home. That day will be far, but do be aware."

As Loki left the throne room and passed the files of guards walking back to reassume their positions, his once-heavy heart left a load behind. The colours of the palace seemed a little more vivid, the beams of sunlight through the palace windows seemed a little brighter, and the air, which had always seemed so stagnant, smelled a little sweeter than before. He had never realized how much he had feared that the lack of paternal attention was due to his true origins and curse, which he had only recently discovered. He had feared because history was not something he could change. Odin's words had, at least, made his gloomy days a little brighter.

* * *

Thor stalked the hallways, troubled. He was hardly ever troubled because of his carefree nature, but he was now, and it ate at him slowly, and irritatingly. A few passing courtiers glanced at him strangely, unused to seeing the Prince look as though he were thinking, but Thor ignored them.

Indeed, he hardly noticed what he was doing himself. It was uncertain whether he even knew he _was_ stalking the halls, so preoccupied was his mind with Loki.

Loki. Loki, Loki, Loki. _What is troubling you? _

Perhaps he should be aggressive. Knock on Loki's door, enter, and demand his attention. Or perhaps Thor should confess, push Loki's common senses off guard, and gather information during the confusion.

Ha.

Thor shook his head, ashamed of his foolish thoughts. Such plans were laughable and unworthy to occupy the mind of a future King. He had his hammer in his hand, which he twirled and flipped in his reverie, and he contemplated simply using it to break the doors of his unrelenting adopted brother to—

At that moment, Thor glimpsed Loki walking past a corridor at the far end of the hall. All previous thoughts disappeared as his joy in seeing his secret love once again in three entire days bloomed through his chest. Quietly, Thor followed him. He was surprised and not quite happy to see a soft smile alighting that lovely face, for why could _he_ not put it there? Many people found Loki's pale skin and effeminate body to be a sign of weakness and poor health, but Thor saw nothing wrong with what he perceived a different sort of beauty. What strength Loki lacked in body he made up for in his mind, and the milky, smooth skin, intelligent emerald eyes and slight quirk of those thin pink lips brought Thor's heart aflutter like no one had ever had. Loki was a butterfly he could not catch.

Loki's path led them towards the bath houses. Thor wanted to make his presence known so that they may go together, but he knew that the chances of Loki assenting to such a good idea were slim, and he contented himself with distant watching.

Loki disappeared into a side room for a moment. He emerged several moments later wearing a white, slightly translucent bathrobe made of silky velvet. The sheer whiteness gave his pale skin a little colour, and Thor thought Loki never looked more beautiful than he did now in the rather revealing garment. Thor could not deny his effeminacy, because as Loki undressed to step into the warm waters by his toes, the way he slipped the soft material off his shoulders and let it float to the marble floor was more delicately done than the Goddess of Beauty herself could do, and the slow, deliberate movements were sensual beyond belief. His smooth and sculpted figure was slowly revealed as the bathrobe sighed to the ground, laying in a fluffy white cloud by his feet. It was all Thor could manage to keep breathing behind the pillar from which he spied.

The siren – Thor might as well call him that – slipped into the waters, head and all, making hardly a ripple, and rose a second later like a raven-haired mermaid. The sheen of water gave the pale skin it coated a definite glow which lured Thor like a bird to light.

Fortunately, he caught himself. If he stayed any longer, he may do something to their relationship that time could never amend, and so Thor quickly and quietly left the pool and the bathing beauty, and waited patiently by the lip of the bathhouse entrance for Loki to finish.


End file.
